


The Colours of a Winter Sunset

by HollyShadow88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Bath Sex, Bathtub Sex, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sentimental, Smut, probably not what the lush people intended for their products but here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyShadow88/pseuds/HollyShadow88
Summary: On the anniversary of the day they first met, Sherlock surprises John with what is basically a load of sentimental fluff and love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *gestures* Well that happened. 
> 
> Have a fuckton of smut on our boys' anniversary.

“Hi there, booking for Holmes?”

The woman at the desk glanced up at John over the top of her glasses before turning back to her computer screen.  After a moment of clicking and typing, she nodded to herself and spun around in her rolling chair, pushing herself to the back counter and opening a drawer.  She scrounged around in it and eventually pulled out a silver key, purposefully made to look antique but barely worn.  Rising to her feet to slide it across to John, she grinned as she leaned on the counter.

“You’ve got one of our cabins – just step back outside and it’s the third one down on the left.  Do you need any help with your bags, Mr. Holmes?”

John smiled and shook his head, ignoring her assumption for the time being and slipping the key into his jacket pocket.  As she returned to her work, he slung his duffle farther up his shoulder and went in search of Sherlock.  They’d received a call from Lestrade late last night, explaining that he had a friend up in Scotland who could use Sherlock’s help.  Given what the date was, John tried to subtly convince Sherlock to hold off on going until Monday, but Sherlock seemed so excited by whatever Lestrade told him that John gave in fairly quickly.  They got the next train out that night and spent a long thirteen hours squashed in a pair of cheap seats attempting to sleep.

Surprisingly, Sherlock thought to arrange for a place for them to stay before they left, guiding their rental car through the small village of Glencoe to a spot slightly out of the centre of town and closer to where the river branched out.  John had willingly admitted as they pulled up to the medium sized cabin surrounded by several smaller ones that he chose well.  How he managed to land them one of the personal cottages on such short notice was beyond John, but he found himself hopeful that regardless of what happened, they could manage to make the most of the weekend, even if most of their time would be spent helping with the case.

He found Sherlock by the fireplace, sitting on the arm of one of the various armchairs that circled it.  His own bag sat at his feet and he toyed with his fingers nervously, the foot that hung over the chair’s edge jittering in restless energy.  John assumed he was anxious to get on with the case and rushed over to his side.

“Got the key,” he said, gesturing towards the entrance.  Sherlock nodded and rose to his feet, snatching up his bag and matching John’s pace to follow beside him.  His free hand moved to the end of his scarf, twirling the fringe around his index finger in continued agitation.  John watched him as he nibbled his bottom lip, the movement tempting, and he pulled his hand away to grasp it firmly in his.  “You okay?  Thinking about the case?”

Sherlock smiled and squeezed John’s hand.  “You could say that.”

They trudged across the snow dusted lawn and reached a gravel path that led to the cabins.  John felt Sherlock stiffen as he released his hand to dig out the key and John shot him a raised eyebrow.  Sherlock managed a small smile in reply before John pushed open the large wooden door and found all of his attention caught on the room within.

It was larger than it looked from the outside, the walls made of smoothed logs stacked on top of one another and complete with a few beams crossing horizontally over the ceiling.  A small table sat in the front corner with a wood stove across from it, already lit and with a stack of wood ready beside it.  An enormous bed, a deep red duvet spread across it, came next, a fluffy pearl rug a drastic contrast below it.  There was a nightstand to each of its sides and a cabinet across from it, all of them a matching lighter wood than what made up the walls and door.  A second set of doors, made up of windows that opened out to the forest surrounding the inn, rested next to a wicker armchair.  Other than the area around the bed where the rug lay, the floor was tiled a rich copper that echoed the wood but with sparkling golden tinges added in.  The entirety of the opposite side of the room was taken up by a huge bathtub, lined on the outside with the same tiles as the floor.  Towels the same shade as the rug waited for them on a side table that held various bathing necessities.  The tub itself was deep enough that a trio of steps led to the faucet, decorative pinecones in a basket and a trio of various sized candles beside it.  As a final touch, a pair of matching chandeliers with electric lights that danced like real fire hung from both sides of the room, one over the bed and the other over the tub.  John stood in the doorway and simply gaped at it all until Sherlock gently prodded his side.

“Do you like it?” he asked quietly, resting his chin on John’s shoulder.  John let out an incredulous laugh and shifted around so that he could look at Sherlock properly.

“Like it?  It’s bloody gorgeous, Sherlock.  How the hell did you manage to get us this?  I almost hate that it’s a case that’s brought us all the way up here so we’ll hardly be able to enjoy it.”

A touch of pink appeared high across Sherlock’s forehead and he pulled away to look down at his feet.  “Ah…about that.  There’s not actually a case.”

“Not…”  John glanced at the room a second time before turning to grab Sherlock’s face.  His gloved hands cradled Sherlock by his jaw, one of his thumbs rubbing across his bottom lip and causing him to shiver.  “You got me out here just for this?”

Sherlock shrugged, his blush spreading across the rest of his face and down toward his neck.  “I wanted it to be a surprise.  I thought you might like it, given what today is.”

John’s lips twisted in a grin and he pulled Sherlock forward to kiss him forcefully, all finesse given up in favour of shoving his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth as soon as possible.  Sherlock let out a yelp of surprise before melting against John, wrapping his arms around his waist.  John pulled away and ran his fingers across Sherlock’s face, tracing the lines and contours with the soft fabric of his gloves.  “29 January.  I thought you didn’t realise.”

Sherlock’s eyes shot open and his eyebrows wrinkled into a frown.  “Of course I didn’t forget, John.  I would never forget the day we first met.”

A sudden gust of snow tinged wind blew past them and they both shivered.  “Get that delightful arse inside so that I can properly show my appreciation for all of this.”  Sherlock smirked and began backing into the room, dragging John along with fingers hooked into his belt loops. 

As soon as the door was closed behind him, Sherlock shoved John against it, nudging past his scarf to bury his face in his neck.  John’s bag fell from his already lax grip to join Sherlock’s on the floor and his hands shifted up to grasp in Sherlock’s curls.  As soon as he tightened his hold, Sherlock groaned low in his throat and started to mouth at John’s neck, the pressure of his lips echoing the tension in his scalp as John messaged it.  Eventually John pulled enough to encourage Sherlock’s head to shoot up and their eyes met briefly as they both fought to catch their breath.

“I have another surprise,” Sherlock breathed as he nuzzled his nose against John’s.  “In my bag.”

John ghosted a trio of kisses over Sherlock’s lips, barely letting their skin brush against each other, before ducking under his arm and snatching up Sherlock’s bag.  He tossed it on the bed and started to rummage through it, soon uncovering a familiar brown bag.  Chuckling, he turned back to face Sherlock and dangled the bag in front of him.

“So this was what you were doing on Oxford Street the other day,” he said, passing it to Sherlock.  “Made another stop at Lush, did you?”

Sherlock smiled wickedly and took the bag, pulling out two smaller ones and tossing the first carelessly on the floor.  “I know how much you enjoy your baths, John, and I thought it would be nice for us to share one.  Why shouldn’t I go out of my way to make it even better by adding something extra to it?  It would be a shame to put such a pleasant tub to waste, after all.”

“Hmm, yes, a shame.”  He stalked up to Sherlock, forcing himself into his space so that they stood chest to chest.  “How about you go get all of that set up for us while I unpack?  I’d like to take advantage of that particular amenity as soon as humanly possible.”

Letting out a deep breath, Sherlock nodded and made to step around John.  Before he could go far, John slung an arm around his neck and pulled his face down close, Sherlock’s eyes fluttering shut at the movement.  He followed the edge of one cheekbone with his lips, laying light kisses and the occasional lick to the skin.  John trailed his thumb along Sherlock’s hairline, twirling it around the curl at the base of his neck.  His other thumb came up to Sherlock’s lips, tugging the bottom one down teasingly to separate them and tease out his tongue.  Sherlock followed the movement and flicked it out to taste John, but John pulled away before he could reach.  Chasing after the retreating thumb, Sherlock leaned down towards John’s face and attempted to duck in for a kiss.  John stopped him with a hand to his chest and Sherlock’s eyes opened to blink down at him.

“Bath?” John whispered, his mouth curled into a wicked grin.  Sherlock gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion and nearly tempting John back in.  Rather than following the motion with his tongue, John took a step back and turned Sherlock towards the bath, giving his bum a smack to encourage him along.  Sherlock glanced at him over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised mischievously, and sauntered across the room, giving his hips a purposeful swagger.  John shook his head at him and attempted to focus on their things rather than what Sherlock did over at the tub.

John had calmed a bit by the time he had finished stowing away everything in its proper place.  He lost nearly all of his composure when he glanced across the room and spotted Sherlock.  While the tub filled, he had shed all of his clothes, leaving them strewn in a trail from the window to the tub’s side.  He stood with his back to John as he read the labels on the Lush bags, one of his feet absentmindedly curling up to rub his opposite ankle.  The balance required to pull off his position caused his back to curve faintly and his whole body to sway slightly.  Overhead, the chandelier let off a low light that warmed Sherlock’s pale skin into a soft golden glow.  The crisscrossing echoes of his time away showed in an even starker white and John felt a sweeping rush through his midsection.  Gratefulness and an accompanying wave of affection followed in its wake and his feet carried him to Sherlock’s side.

Wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s waist, John buried his face between his shoulder blades.  As he rubbed his cheek against the rough skin there, he felt Sherlock stumble slightly to keep himself standing.  He turned to attempt to look over his shoulder at John, but all he could see was the top of his silver head.  “John?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.  John smiled and sniffled a bit, the noise causing Sherlock to shift around so that they were face to face.  He ran his thumb under one of his eyes, catching the hint of tears that were attempting to fall.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” John muttered, laughing at himself.  “Just.”  He ran a hand carefully up and down Sherlock’s back, starting at the base of his spine and ending at his neck.  “Sentiment.  I’m fine.”

Sherlock smiled, his face softening, and shifted his hand down from John’s face to his chest.  He toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt, looking up at John through his eyelashes.  “Get undressed and help me finish the bath?”

Rather than respond, John started on his shirt.  Sherlock set one of the bags on the chair and approached the tub with the other, unwrapping a large violet and white bath bomb.  He delicately lowered it into the water and it began to fizz, swirls of purple, pink, and blue bubbling up around it.  The room quickly filled with a sweet yet floral scent, dominated by a curl of fresh strawberries.  Sherlock guided it across the water’s surface, observing the swirls it created and coaxing it to melt.  By the time John finished undressing and brought the other bag to the tub’s opposite side, the bomb itself had dissolved, leaving behind colours the shade of a winter sunset and the smell of flowers and chocolates meant for a lover.

“Ready for whatever this is?” he asked, opening his bag.  Another smaller and brighter purple ball sat inside, its exterior shimmery and smooth.  Sherlock nodded and John dropped the bath oil in to join the disintegrated bomb.  A darker purple, shot through with silver glitter that matched the tones from the bomb, started to seep into the colours already present in the water.  Coils of lavender with an unusual woodsy background melted with the sweeter smells that were already floating through the air, mellowing it out without overpowering it.  By the time it was gone, the water had become a dark, shimmery purple galaxy dotted with glitter that blinked in the light.

“Excellent,” Sherlock muttered, dipping a finger in to test the water.  He rose to his feet and ignored the steps to climb over the edge and settle in the tub.  Even with his height, when he sat against the far wall, the water reached almost to his nipples, turning the reflected skin under a delightful violet.  John climbed over the side to join him, moaning as the almost too hot water touched his skin.  He settled directly across from Sherlock, his legs resting over Sherlock’s, and took up one of his feet to massage the arch.  Sherlock let out a whine and arched his back, his head coming to rest over the tub’s edge.

“What are these two called, then?” John asked as he dug his fingers into the muscles of Sherlock’s foot.  “They’re a nice mix.”

“Roller bath bomb and Monsieur Gustave bath oil,” Sherlock moaned, sinking deeper into the water to get himself closer to John.  “I thought you might like them.”  Soon only half of his face, from his nose to the top of his hair, remained above the water, the longer curls at the base of his skull drifting under the purple swirls.  Unable to resist touching him more, John shifted around until they were on the same side of the tub, Sherlock’s back against John’s front.  He encouraged Sherlock to rest his head on his shoulder so that he could properly run his hands along his body, rubbing the oil into Sherlock’s skin.  Sherlock purred deep in his chest and writhed into John’s touch, eventually settling enough for John to do what he wished.

Starting at the top of his chest, John danced his fingers across his collarbone, twirling the pads into the hollows.  He kneaded at the muscles just below, purposefully skipping over Sherlock’s nipples.  When Sherlock tilted his head to nip at John’s jaw, John grinned and humoured him, tweaking and pulling on them until Sherlock arched up and nearly spilled water over the tub’s edge.  John continued downward, outlining his abs and squeezing above his hips.  Sherlock growled and ground against John’s cock, which rested at the small of his back.  In retaliation, John bit down at the junction between his neck and shoulder.  Gasping, Sherlock’s hands flew to John’s thighs, digging his fingers hard into the flesh.  While John sucked across his neck and shoulder, Sherlock’s hands fluttered and copied the pressure up and down John’s thighs.  With the strength of their movements, both would leave the bath with lines of bruises in various locations.

Once he had Sherlock quivering against him, John let his hands lurk lower.  With the amount of oil already in the tub, he was able to grip Sherlock’s cock in a slick and easy hold.  It twitched the instant he touched it, Sherlock letting out a sound that was half sigh and half groan at the relief.  John allowed him a few quick tugs before moving away, massaging away the tension that had developed in Sherlock’s legs.  Sherlock huffed in irritation and placed his hands over John’s, attempting to move them back where he wanted.  Instead of cooperating, John took both of his hands up in one of his, guiding them over John’s shoulders to cup the back of his head.  He squeezed his wrists in a silent demand that they remain there and Sherlock brought one up to tangle in John’s hair. 

John let his grip hover back down to Sherlock’s hips, giving them his attention for a brief moment.  He could distract himself for only so long before they slipped even lower, grasping his arse in two tight handfuls.  Sherlock warred with himself, arching back against John and up to give him more room.  His nails scratched at John in a silent bid to continue.  John replied by digging his hands harder into the tense muscles, pushing and pulling them apart.  Without Sherlock noticing, he managed to slip a finger down and between to push against his hole.  Sherlock whimpered and threw his head back further over John’s shoulder, his legs automatically parting to allow him closer.

Though he would have preferred having something more than the oil floating vaguely around him, John’s patience had officially run out.  He eased his finger in to the first knuckle and Sherlock panted, his chest heaving as he attempted to push John in further.  John relented and wiggled it in the rest of the way, searching out his prostate.  Once successful, Sherlock finally managed to dislodge some of the water across the floor as he arched and cried out.  Smirking in his success, John ran his nail lightly against the nub and gripped him firmly at his hip as Sherlock thrashed in his hold.

John pulled back and toyed with the rim, teasing out puffed whines that tickled his neck.  He brought a second finger along with his first, easing them in and carefully separating them to open Sherlock further.  The muscles in Sherlock’s arms quivered as he attempted to keep them where John directed.  Taking pity on him, John released his hip to take one of Sherlock’s hands up in his.  The grip was nearly tight enough to be painful, encouraging John to add a third finger.  Within moments Sherlock was thrusting himself back on his fingers, whimpering pleas into John’s neck and attempting to guide their joined hands down to his cock.

Moving his hand away to grasp his own cock, John shifted Sherlock to float above him in the water and give him more space.  He teased the tip along Sherlock’s cleft, resulting in Sherlock thrusting up enough that his cock breached the water’s surface.  Sherlock gaped down at it in brief surprise, John attempting to stifle his giggles into Sherlock’s shoulder.  With a glare back at him, Sherlock settled back down into the water and, in the process, forced the first half of John’s cock inside of him.  They both froze, John’s laughter dying in his throat to become a moan, and John thrust back until he was fully seated.

They took a moment to catch their breaths before John pulled slowly out and pushed back in.  He repeated the motion a few times, keeping his movements steady and teasing.  Sherlock released his hand to dig it into John’s thigh instead, the fingers on both of their hands tingling.  As Sherlock increased the pressure on John’s leg, John increased his pace until they were knocking more water out of the tub than they were keeping in.  He felt the low burn of impending orgasm settling in his groin and he shifted around to pull at Sherlock’s cock.  In reply, Sherlock began to let out a high-pitched whine at the back of his throat, his body shifting between thrusting down onto John’s cock and up into his hand.  Within half a dozen strokes, Sherlock was coming and sagging back against him.  John followed half a second later.

When he managed to focus again, John waved his arm lazily in the now lukewarm water, enjoying the swirls of purple that still surrounded them.  Sherlock sighed and placed a small kiss on John’s jaw, causing him to sigh in contentment.  Soon they both were shivering and John pushed them into a proper sitting positing to dislodge the plug and pull them to their feet.  They gingerly stepped onto the freezing tile, careful not to slip on the waterlogged floor, and grabbed towels before throwing themselves onto the bed.  While John sprawled himself out on his back, Sherlock lay on his side, resting his head on his bent elbow.  Suddenly, a snort of laughter disrupted the contented silence of the room and John turned a raised eyebrow on Sherlock.

“Your…you’ve got glitter…on...”  Sherlock attempted to complete his sentence, but his giggles overwhelmed him and he collapsed with his face pressed into the bed.  John glanced down at himself and snorted, slapping him on the arm.

“Are you laughing at my glittery cock?” he demanded, causing Sherlock’s laughter to double.  John rolled over to climb on top of him, peppering kisses along his shoulders.  “You’re lucky I love you, you arse.”

Sherlock wheeze and angled his head to the side to breathe.  “I…love you too.  Hap…happy anni-”  He dissolved back into giggles, his body shaking under John.

“Happy anniversary?”

“Yes, that.”

“Mm, you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all can thank [this pic](https://www.facebook.com/creativethings1/photos/a.967288176696953.1073741828.966840826741688/1198969283528840/?type=3&theater) for inspiring all of this.
> 
> ALSO 0/10 would suggest using this as lube, please prepare responsibility.


End file.
